How do you solve a problem like Elektra?
by NezumiPi
Summary: Matt's new girlfriend is bad news. Foggy is just trying to be a good friend.


When Foggy Nelson was in high school (back when he was still _Franklin_ ), his health class teacher had taken a break from giving them unnecessarily graphic information about STDs to make them watch a video on dating violence. In the video, a group of friends become increasingly worried about a young woman who used to hang out with them, and had drifted away in favor of her new boyfriend, who looked like he had answered a casting call for 'obviously sleazy fuckwad, prison tats a plus'. The friends intervened, of course, Greasy McDouchenozzle got arrested, and everything ended happily ever after. Or something. Foggy might have drifted off.

Now he was wishing he had paid more attention.

Matt, Foggy realized, must not know how fucked up he looked. He obviously knew about his own injuries, but he couldn't know how bad they appeared or he would be doing a better job hiding them. Maybe they looked worse than they felt?

Foggy was really wishing he remembered what happened in that stupid health class. In all fairness, the _Real Teens, Real Problems_ video series probably hadn't offered much guidance about what to do if your blind male friend was being beaten by his crazy girlfriend. Or what do to if, instead of seeming scared and withdrawn like you'd expect an abuse victim to be, Matt seemed happier than he'd ever been before. Or when you didn't want to be ableist and treat Matt like he couldn't handle his own problems, but what if it was a problem that most people couldn't handle on their own? Or what to do if you're worried about coming across as jealous, because Matt got a lot more attention from women than Foggy did, and because – if Foggy was completely honest with himself – he missed having Matt all to himself.

But Foggy knew he was going to have to put all that aside and do something, because whatever was going on between Matt and Elektra, it was fucked up and he couldn't let his friend get hurt like that.

Matt came back from the showers, cane rapping at the floorboards, wearing only a towel. There were bruises on his ribs and red abrasions (rope burns?) spreading from his neck to his armpits. He turned around to balance his cane in the corner and Foggy could see a row of little raw scabby spots down his spine. One was a little yellowish and had hot red lines spreading out from it, like the arms of an octopus. Maybe it was infected? Ew, what if it got infected? Oh man, that was-

"We need to talk," said Foggy in what he really hoped was a supportive-friend voice and not a clingy-ex-girlfriend one.

"Sure," said Matt cheerfully, not turning around. He was feeling around on his dresser for his deodorant. "Can it wait until I get dressed?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Foggy quickly. "Sure, no hurry."

Matt put on a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt. It was Sunday – they had no classes and no plans. He grabbed his cane and sat down on the side of his bed. "So, what's the problem?" he asked. When Foggy didn't answer immediately, Matt went on. "Is this about last night? I didn't expect you back until the morning, so-"

"It's not about last night, Matt," Foggy interrupted. "I mean, that's not the- I told you I wasn't going to be back until late. You thought you had the room to yourself."

"Well, to be perfectly honest, that's how I saw it, too. But I still felt bad about locking you out all night."

"Yeah, that's not really what this is about, Matt." Foggy paused, irrationally hoping that his roommate would somehow magically read his mind. When telepathy failed to invent itself, Foggy exhaled slowly and said, "It's about your girlfriend."

Matt's expression changed. His eyes narrowed. Foggy wondered whether that was one of those inborn gestures or whether Matt learned it back when he had his sight. "What about her?" He didn't sound cheerful anymore.

"Does she…hit you?"

Matt laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. "Does…she hit me," he echoed.

"You look like someone's been taking a swing at you. And I've heard you guys fighting or something."

"Or something," said Matt, slowly.

"Man, I'm not trying to- I'm just worried about you. It's not okay if she's-"

"It's consensual."

"What?"

"It's consensual," repeated Matt. "I like it."

"You've got freaking burns on your back!"

"I know. I was there. It was great."

Matt's smile muscle, the one on the right side of his face, twitched and suddenly Foggy (sort of) understood what was going on.

"You mean it's one of those, like, whips and fuzzy handcuff things?"

"Yeah," said Matt, blushing. "I didn't explain earlier because I thought it was…uh…private." He coughed, sounding 70% embarrassed and 30% proud of himself. "Not to kiss and tell, but it's really, really amazing." The blush spread all the way down his neck.

Okay, problem solved then. Elektra wasn't beating Matt. Well, she was, but it was part of some weird kinky BDSM thing that Matt was apparently into. So things were fine.

Except…

Matt's grades were dropping. More and more of his time was devoted to Elektra or to recovering from his adventures with her.

"She just lost control of the car, Foggy. People get in accidents all the time."

 _Not doing 90 in a snow storm._

For someone who desperately wanted to get into law school, Matt was definitely doing some questionably legal things. Trespassing at the very least. And drugs.

"Poppers are legal."

 _Legal to buy, yeah, but only if you use them for removing furniture polish._

Elektra was rich. Foggy new the kind of awe that instilled in a lowly Hell's Kitchen boy like himself. He had to assume it went double for Matt.

"It was a great vacation! I've never taken a trip like that before!"

 _She took you_ _ **skiing**_ _. You're blind and you had no idea what you were doing. You could have died._

Matt just seemed different. He was different.

"She makes me happy. I feel good when I'm with her. Can't you just be happy for me?"

 _Maybe._

Matt was supposed to be the praying one, but Foggy couldn't help folding his hands as he hoped that things didn't get any worse. Please let her lose interest. Please let Matt see reason. Please let them drift apart before-

And then it happened. Matt spent most of the week lying on his side in bed. "She's gone, Foggy. She's just gone."

And Foggy pretended he wasn't insanely happy about that new development and tried to cheer up his pal and hoped to god she never came back.


End file.
